Injustice
by White Weasel
Summary: On a brisk November evening, Bobby Fulbright decides to take a walk to collect his thoughts. Major AA5 spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Before I say anything new I will restate that this contains _major_ Dual Destinies spoilers. The summary didn't seem like it, but it does. Now that that's out of the way the only other thing I have to say is that this is an idea that's been floating in my brain about the real Bobby Fulbright (see, already a spoiler in the author's note XP) It's a two-shot, so hopefully all your questions will be answered... if not, just PM/ leave a review and I'll gladly fill you in.**

**Warning: This fic will contain violence**

It was a chilly November night in L.A. Bobby Fulbright was as content as could be. He was relaxing on the recliner in his ranch styled house. Though he lived alone, and the house was larger than needed, he could never move. He had a few friends in his suburban neighborhood. The woods were also very nice to take strolls through. He usually would walk through the forest when he needed to clear his head, especially about cases he would work on.

He had to admit, he was nervous about the fact that he was assigned to be the detective partner for Simon Blackquill. Don't get him wrong, it was an honor that Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth trusted him to handle Blackquill. The prosecutor's checkered past was a bit unnerving though. One moment he was an up and coming prosecutor, guarding the law, and the next day he killed his own mentor.

Maybe he shouldn't say he murdered his mentor, he was _convicted_ of murdering his mentor. Mr. Edgeworth had told him that he highly doubted the verdict was true, and the details around the case were not ordinary. Maybe Blackquill was innocent? If not, hopefully the man had come to terms with the vile deed he committed. He was going to be executed the next year.

Bobby tried not to think about gloomy matters such as murder while he was off duty. Sometimes though, he just couldn't get the thoughts out of his mind. Now would be one of the times it would be best for him to take a walk. He glanced at the clock. It read 6:37 PM, not _too_ late for a stroll. The detective grabbed his white suit coat that he usually wore whenever he went out and headed for the wooded area.

The temperature didn't matter to Fulbright. He actually welcomed it. Most people enjoyed warmer months, but the California sun made him more irritable than he would have liked. Not that anyone would have ever been able to tell. He made it a point to always come off as joyful even if all he wanted to do was be alone.

Suddenly the sound of dead leaves being crushed by the weight of an object on them filled the silent air. Bobby glanced down to see if he was the cause of the noise. He already knew the answer was no before he looked, but he wanted to be sure. The detective looked behind him and noticed that the perpetrator was a man in a trench coat with a fedora obscuring the face from view.

Rationally Fulbright knew that there was nothing to fear; it was probably just another individual taking a stroll for similar reasons that he was. However, his gut feeling told him that he should be wary of the stranger, maybe even telling him that he should leave as soon as possible. The figure started approaching Bobby.

"Hello," Bobby said forcing a big smile. The man, the detective had deduced the gender by the large build and fashion in which they walked, stayed silent.

The mysterious man was about six inches from Bobby before he stopped. He suddenly pulled a knife from a back pocket. Bobby was obviously surprised and raised his hands as he often did when he was in shock. It also doubled as a sign of surrender. He knew, and had even told others, that it was better to submit to a criminal than to try and stop them. Besides, justice was absolute. Their crime would catch up with them eventually.

"Woah there, take it easy." He put his hands up even higher in the air. "I'm not going to try anything. You can relax. My money is in my back pocket. It might be awkward for you to grab, so why don't I do it?" Bobbly slowly started to reach into his back pocket.

"I don't want your money." The man said. Bobby could have sworn that he had heard the voice before. It couldn't be, could it?

"Mr. Edgeworth?!" The man tilted his head up to let the detective see his face. Bobby breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, thinking it was all just some large prank. "Don't scare me like that sir!"

"You have a very good reason to be afraid detective."

"I'm _afraid_ I don't understand." Fulbright's expression turned to one of confusion, but he tried to sound playful in his comment.

Edgeworth laughed. The investigator usually welcomed the prosecutor's laugh; it meant that he was at least somewhat laidback and not working himself ragged. This laugh, however, made Bobby go cold. It was the same laugh, but it almost sounded hollow. "You always were too trusting Fulbright."

"What are you ta-" The detective cut himself off as a searing pain filled his abdomen. He looked down to see the small knife protruding out of his stomach, the white of his coat being tainted by his own blood. He moved his gloved hands with his gaze. Soon the gloves themselves became soaked in blood. Bobby looked up and was even more taken aback by the expression Edgeworth wore on his face.

The older man was completely devoid of all emotion.

There was no guilt, no remorse in his eyes. There wasn't even the maniacal glint that a madman would have. That was probably the biggest slap in the face. Didn't he feel anything for his subordinate?

After what felt like hours the blade was removed and the assailant pushed him backwards so that the half dead man was lying on his back. Bobby was beginning to cough and red was mixed in with his saliva.

The wound was bleeding profusely before the knife was removed. After the weapon had been taken out the blood flowed freely. Within the next few minutes Bobby knew that he would be dead. He determined that he wouldn't be able to call for help. There was no way that he was getting out of this alive.

He shakily took his right hand, which was still covered in blood, and started to write the word 'EDGEWORTH'. The soon to be killer clearly saw what the detective was doing, yet did nothing.

The detective was beginning to fade. His world was becoming darker and darker. Shapes blurred together. He knew these were his last moments. He tried to think of all the great things that happened in his life. About his loving parents, his younger sister, about how happy he was when he became a detective. He almost forgot all about his current predicament.

Almost.

Even with how terrible his vision he could see his attacker standing over him. His blissful thoughts left his mind and all Bobby could do was wonder why Edgeworth would do this. Did he accidently discover a dark secret about the prosecutor? Did he do something to slight the man? Or maybe, the man was mentally unstable.

Slowly Bobby's eyes fell closed for the last time.


	2. Chapter 2

The man looked down at his latest victim. He couldn't bring himself to feel anything for the poor fool. The detective should have known better than to wander about after dusk. The man stooped down and searched Bobby's body for his police identification badge. He found it effortlessly as he had seen him take it out more times than he could count.

The murderer checked the body for more valuables and came away with a wallet and a set of keys for his house. Fulbright did not carry his gun around with him when off duty; if he had the detective's fate might have been drastically different. Then again, the man had been watching the investigator for a long enough time to know this fact about him and wouldn't have taken such a straight approach.

Just in case the officer was concealing some sort of weapon though, the man had made sure that he disguised himself as someone Fulbright trusted, at least somewhat. Miles Edgeworth. The man, who had been labeled as a phantom, had actually planned on killing the detective. It was just a stroke of luck that the idiot had decided to take a night time stroll. It made everything so much easier.

The Phantom adjusted the black gloves he wore on his hands. He reached down and hoisted the body up on his shoulder; after all, he couldn't let the police find drag marks.

After walking for a few minutes he dropped the body in an open area of about ten by fifteen feet surrounded by the rest of the forest. The man masquerading as Edgeworth took a small lighter out and set to work burning off every finger and toe print individually. It was a common misconception that people could burn off their _own_ prints, the man had tried and failed. A dead body though, anything's possible with them. They're already dead; there was no worry about their wellbeing.

After he was finished with his task, he pulled a tank of lighter fluid from behind a tree. He had this site picked out to dump the body for almost as long as he had been watching the detective. It was far enough from trees that the whole area wouldn't set on fire, yet hidden so that the man could get away, unsuspected of anything.

The liquid was poured over the man's body. Once everything was set the Phantom stepped back a long ways and took a match box out of his pocket and lit the small stick. He threw it onto the body and the corpse erupted in flames. The imposter just walked away. He knew that the fire would die out eventually, and he had more important matters to attend to.

When he made his way back he stopped at where the homicide had occurred. The dirt was discolored with blood. He could fix that. He simply used the sleeve of the trench coat he wore to wipe the blood up. He wasn't worried about a Luminol test; the police weren't even going to be in this area.

The Phantom then glanced over to Fulbright's last message. If he could, he would laugh. The detective had squirmed until the very end, fully thinking that his sweet justice would prevail. All it took was a swipe of his sleeve and the message was unreadable. He then kicked dirt over the offending spot and everything looked normal. The Phantom tipped his hat, and proceeded to walk to his new home.

Once there he changed out of his now stained trench coat and into Bobby Fulbright's white suit. He disposed of the sullied clothes in a neighbor's garbage can. The Phantom then went into the bathroom of the house and put on his newest mask, a perfect replica of the late detective's face. He gave a great big smile and said his first words ever as this new man.

"Injustice we trust."


End file.
